


Guilty Kisses

by tempo_loser



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stancest - Freeform, accidentally deleted work, hugging it out, reupload??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6026104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempo_loser/pseuds/tempo_loser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Idea from anon]</p><p>Stan's tattoo is throwing a huge pile of guilt at Ford. So no matter where they are he places a kiss on it. It's gotten to the point where Wendy, Soos, and the kids are alright with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS I APOLOGIZE I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED MY WORK AAAAAH. I HOPE YOU GUYS COULD STILL FIND THIS. THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME!!
> 
> -
> 
> So I made it in time!! For the finale!! I'm soooo sorry this took a long time, but hopefully it was worth it. The finale is going to hit me hard but I'll still be in the fandom no matter what. No matter what happens, we're all going to survive this. Together. :D
> 
> Cheers to a new era. The era of even more headcanons, theories, sobbing, and acceptance.

Stan stares up at the ceiling for which seems like the 78th time. 

 

He doesn’t know how long he has been staring at it. He feels like he’s half-asleep, yet awake. Was it the coffee? It’s gotta be the coffee. Dammit. It’s pointless to even try to fall asleep. He could lay there for a week and he still wouldn’t fall asleep. If it’s going to be like this, he’d rather just get out of bed.

 

“Ouu...chhh. Up we go,” He winces as he sits up. “Look at me,” Stan mutters to himself. “I'm getting old.” He thinks about being young again. As much as he’d like to go back, he can't.

 

His mind drifts to the period of his childhood, where all he talked about was the Stan o’ War. It was awfully embarrassing, thinking back on it. Worst of all, he had sounded so…. _ confident _ . Like he had it all planned out. His future, his life, his journey.

 

But that’d never happen. Stan only wished that someone was there to tell him:

 

“That's not going to happen. Reality will tear that dream to bloody pieces and punch you in the goddamn balls.” 

 

Then, he wouldn't of made a fool of himself for 5+ years going on and on about exploring the world and some other shenanigans.

 

Well, maybe some adults told him his dream was stupid. They didn't sugarcoat it, seeing that he didn't “deserve” that. But still, he held onto that thread of hope. For him. For Ford. 

 

That was a mistake. 

 

Oh what is he saying? His whole life was a mistake! God, how many laws has he broken by now? 

 

Stanley sighs in frustration. He is thinking too much. Way too much. Old guys like him were suppose to relax and enjoy the golden age. Let’s be real though, he hasn’t got a chance to relax since he got kicked out of his,  _ their  _ house. 

 

Walking down the stairs, his vision blurs a bit. Damn his killer headache. Stan holds onto the railing. Just incase, you know, he trips and dies.

 

Flicking on the kitchen lights, Stan looked for something to eat. The fridge had nothing but soda, the cabinets were full of chips, candy, and instant ramen. Ramen was easy enough, right? He boils the water and poured it into the plastic cup, sitting a spoon on top to keep the air in. 

 

Several minutes later, Stan sits down at the table and tries to enjoy his meal. Note, tries. He can’t help but nod off every time he chew. He should really stop before he chokes or something. 

 

Though after a few bites, he didn’t feel like eating. He wasn’t even hungry from the start. He just wants to sleep. Is that too much too ask? What was the phrase? Go to sleep with a full belly or something? Yeah, that's what Stan is trying to do. 

 

He rubs his eyes harshly as they were starting to hurt. Stan tenses when he heard footsteps coming closer and closer. Was it a monster? Some demon thing that’s been summoned by Gideon? He didn’t dare move an inch but he slowly opens his eyes, focusing on the doorway. Actually, the only person who could be awake now is-

 

“Stanley?” a face peeps out.   
  


“Were you expecting Satan?”

 

Ford gives him a look, walking into the room, “You look horrible.” 

 

“Always knew I could count on you, pal,” Stans says dryly, looking away. 

 

The air was tense and awkward as hell. They were both looking around the room, finding something to say. “Hey uh, do you have anymore of those?” Ford asks, scratching his head. Truthfully, he’s kind of hungry too. He stayed up, knowing that if he slept, he’ll just wake up again. And sometimes, he just forgets to eat. 

 

“It’s in that cabinet,” Stan points at the cupboard behind him. 

 

Ford nods and was about to get it out before something caught his eye. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see a blue mark on Stanley’s back. Then it hit him, like a ton of bricks. He couldn't pull his eyes away as much as he’d like to. The guilt _.  _ Oh _ jeez.  _ the guilt. The guilt was killing him. Ford sucks in a breath, slowly walking towards his twin. He took a hard look at the scar. 

 

_ You caused that,  _ a voice said in his head. 

 

_ I caused that _ , he repeated. His heart hurt, like someone punched it and then proceeded to 

step on it. He needed to say sorry. He needs to—

 

But he didn’t have the guts. 

 

That’s always have been him, hasn’t it? The shy one, the conserved one, the smart one. Stan, outgoing, confident, flirtatious. Now? Isn’t it the same now? Deep inside, they’re both still the same, right?

 

His hand reaches out and caressed Stan’s shoulders. Stan twitches at the touch. He hasn’t let anyone touch that place in a while. He is tired. Too tired. Too tired to tell Ford off. Too tired to even acknowledge the touch. So he just sits there. Doing absolutely nothing, only spacing out. Honestly, it even scares himself that he’s acting like this.

 

Ford leans closer to examine it. It had turned light blue. He faintly recalls the day when it happened. The same day where he thought he’d never return. This mark, engraved into Stan’s skin forever, might as well been his parting gift. 

 

He presses his lips against the scar and he kisses it gently. 

 

Stan flinches in surprise. “Ford..?” he whips his head around to meet the eyes of his brother. Oh jeez! Has he been behind him the whole time? Maybe he imagined it, but he felt something soft touched his back like- 

 

No. 

 

No. No. It is definitely his imagination. 

 

Ford jumps back anxiously, like he was afraid that he’d hurt him. “Ford,” Stan calls. “What did you do?” He brings his hand up to cover his face. He was tearing up. Stan grits his teeth, holding back tears. He can’t cry! Not in front of Ford! 

 

“Stanley,” Ford grabs Stan’s wrists, trying to pry it off his face. “Stan, please...You need to get up. You need to sleep. Y..You’re losing it.” 

 

Sleep. Sleep, he says. 

 

“Here, close your eyes,” Stanford instructs. Stan would love to laugh in his face right now. Yet, he surrenders. He shuts his eyes and his head became fuzzy. The pain subsides and he felt much better than before. Gee, wasn’t that easy? Stanley breathes in the smell of oil and metal. It feels nostalgic, reminding him of when they worked on the….

 

“Stan,” Ford mumbles. “Please don’t sleep here. Stan- Oh, are you serious? Did you fall asleep? How did you take care of yourself for 30 years?” He scolds his twin, but he was mostly talking to himself. The older hoists his sibling onto his back, taking a breath as he did so. They were both old and Stan was a bit heavy. So, it takes a while before Ford reaches Stan’s bedroom. 

 

He pushes the door with his foot as he got in and is careful to step over the cans of soda on the floor. Setting Stan on the bed, Ford stretches his limbs and back, then looks back to Stanley. 

 

The bed was enough to fit two, right?

 

If he just get up before him, he wouldn't suspect anything. 

 

 

~~**+** ~~

 

 

The weirdest part of waking up is actually waking up. The second weirdest thing about waking up is when you find out that you magically teleported into bed. And then? The last one? When you realize that somebody is in the bed with you. 

 

Stan was trying to find a way to get out of bed without waking that somebody up. But. He was trapped in between the wall and Ford. It’d be real helpful if he could turn into Spiderman to parkour over him. 

 

He slowly slides off the bed and when he did, he was tempted to sprint to the door. 

 

“Yikes,” He mutters, tip-toeing to the exit. He closes the door as he got out and let out a sigh of relief. Ever since Stan woke up, he’s been thinking about last night. Well no, it was early morning. It might’ve been his imagination but Ford….Did he..? They were both sleep deprived at the time so maybe he doesn’t remember, or doesn’t want to remember. Stan leaves it at that. He’ll pretend that nothing happened. 

 

“What time is it?” He asks aloud, scratching his chest and yawning. He walks downstairs and is greeted by Mabel and Dipper. 

 

“Grunkle Stan!!” Mabel squeals, running up to him and hugs his legs. She looks up at him with a knowing look. Perspiration drips down his back. “Oh, uh, hi sweetie!” Stan tries to smile. Though, it was hard when she has the  _ I-saw-you-guys _ face. 

 

“You’re up pretty late,” Dipper takes a bite of his pancake. 

 

“It’s Sunday! You sleep later, eat later, and wake up later,” Stan retorts. 

 

Then the three were left bickering about how it’s unhealthy to stay up late. 

 

 

~~**+** ~~

 

 

Ford’s eyes snaps open and the first thing he does is look over at the empty space next to him. Oh no. He wasn’t sure how to react. How  _ do  _ you even react to that?

 

Stan got up before him. Damn the universe! He let his guard down! Usually, Stan always slept in and he was the only yelling at him to get up. No, that was ages ago…

 

How should he act? What he would like to know is how Stanley reacted when he woke up. Horrified? Disgusted? Or did he not think of it as anything? 

 

Ford smiles when he thinks back to what happened. Yeah,  _ that  _ happened. He felt kind of good about doing  _ that.  _ If anything, he has no regrets at all of this morning’s event. As silly as it may sound, he felt like he lifted a curse off of Stan. And each time he kisses the old scar, it becomes more pure….or something like that. 

 

Well, there’s no use dwelling on it. He should just get off and do...whatever is needed to be done. 

 

Ford hears loud chatter as he trudges down the steps. One particular voice is the loudest.

 

“...sleep late everyday! Besides even though-” Stan looks back at the new guest in the room, but quickly turns away.

 

“Good morning, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper greets him. 

 

“Heya Grunkle Ford!”

 

“Morning Dipper, Mabel,” Ford responds happily. He looks over to Stanley, whose back is facing him with the blue mark peeking out of his shirt. It made Ford’s chest tightened. He walks over and gives it another peck.

 

Mabel and Dipper gazes were straight on them, Dipper’s mouth gaping. 

 

“Holy mackerel!” Stan yelps, jumping away. 

 

_ Well that was more of a reaction than yesterday,  _ Ford notes. 

 

Stan looks at him with wide eyes, then back to the kids. Oh gosh,  _ the kids _ ! What was the idiot thinking?! In front of the children! Their poor souls! 

 

Fortunately for Stan, it didn’t affect Mabel. Dipper on the other hand….Well, he’s working on it. Mabel gives the loudest scream and jumps up and down rapidly. “Omg! You guys! Are so adorable!!” 

 

Stan reddens and storms off, heading upstairs. “Stanley?” Ford calls out.

 

“He ain’t home!” He hears him yell and the slam of a door. 

 

.

.

.

.

 

“Stan?” Ford peeks in.

 

“Go away,” Stan grumbles under the sheets. 

 

Ford raises an eyebrow at his tactics, but invites himself into the room anyways. He takes a seat on the bed and they sit in silence before Stan breaks it. 

 

“Why did you do that?” 

 

Ford bites his lip, eyes darting around nervously. He knows the answer. He knows it. All he needs to do is say it. His mind was debating whether he should. Would it make sense even if it was explained? 

 

Stan kicks the blankets off, turning onto his back. He gives a blank look at Ford, who has an annoyed one. 

 

“You never change.” 

 

“But  _ you _ always do,” Stan replies. 

 

Ford gapes at him in bewilderment. Stan ignores his expression and sits up, wincing when he heard a crack. “Are you alright?” His twin asks in slight panic. “Yeah- Ow.”

 

“I-I don’t think I’ve changed,” Ford utters. 

 

Stanley shakes his head, a sign to tell him not to worry about it. But how could he not? His eyes gaze at Stan’s body. There were other scars other than the one on his shoulder. Ones that he probably got from working on the portal….

 

He leans forward and his his head hits Stan’s shoulder. Ford lets out a breath. A breath of regret? A breath of regret. 

 

 

~~**+** ~~

 

 

In over the course of the next few days, Ford smooched Stan’s scar with every chance he got. It sort of pissing Stan off. He did it in front of everyone! Wendy, Soos, and the kids (again??)! And at anytime too. While he was sleeping, eating, and almost when he was showering. God! He doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. Ford always looked so accomplished after he does it. 

 

He does it so many times, everyone got used to it. They didn’t even react to it anymore. Dipper and Mabel seems to be happy for them too. 

 

Does everyone see this as their way of making up? Hell as if he knows. 

 

“Ley? Stanley?” 

 

Stan looks up from his newspaper to Ford. 

 

“Oh, uh, hey,” He tries to act upbeat. Ford didn’t respond but sat down in front of him, on the floor. “We have chairs, you know,” Stan informs. 

 

“No, this is fine,” Ford insists. 

 

Oh boy. This is going to be a monologue, isn’t it? 

 

“Stanley, I’ve been thinking. It’s been a long time since...we’ve actually had a decent conversation.”

 

He can say that again. 

 

“I don’t think things can be resolved just by talking about it. We haven’t been in contact for...more than 30 years. But…” Ford fiddles with his fingers. “I want to know your side of the story. And I want you to know mine. I know the story that you told to the kids isn’t what really happened, was it? I bet you...You went through way worse than how you told them. There so many things to say I-...” His hands are trembling. 

 

Stan reaches out and grips them tight. “You’re shaking,” He states the obvious. “Well! I don’t know how to word this! I don’t know how things work here anymore. I don’t know you anymore! I don’t know _myself,_ ” Ford bursts. “Was everything worth it? Was Gravity Falls worth it?” His voice cracks.

 

“You’re asking me that? Now?” Stan chuckles weakly. 

 

“Stanley…I’m sorry,” Ford pushes himself up. 

 

“For this,” He caresses Stan’s “tattoo.” 

 

“For everything.” 

 

Ford’s tearing up and you could tell he was trying to hold it in. Something about being professional. Stan’s lips twitches, almost forming a smile. “Come here, you big baby,” He stands up, holding his arms out. 

 

Maybe he cared about his pride, or dignity, if he has any at all, he didn’t take the hug. Or it’s just that he’s stubborn, like dad. Like Stan.  

 

“Break down your walls, will ya’?” Stanley rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around his brother, who broke down once he did. 

 

“We’ll be fine,” Stan assures. “I think, anyways. Unless some evil monster breaks the shack again and steal the kids.”

 

He blinks when Ford places a kiss on his lips. 

 

“It’s your turn to shut up,” he gives a small smile, then nuzzle his head into Stan’s shoulders.

  
  
  


 


End file.
